


And It Ends With Her Alone

by cassanabaratheon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/pseuds/cassanabaratheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However much she tried to write it, her play kept being edited by other hands, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she recalled words said in the unwanted scenes she replayed in her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It Ends With Her Alone

**Author's Note:**

> some character deaths

And It Ends With Her Alone

He was but eighteen years of age when he asked to marry her. He sat opposite her in the small dark panelled study in Grimmauld Place that he knew so well that he could most likely name every dusty tome on the mahogany bookshelf during the silence that hung between them. She titled her head to the side, her eyes calmly assessing him as if for the first time and not as the cousin she had known throughout her life. Then a small smile, ghostly and secret, appeared on her lips and she said but one word.

"No."

She stood up and he followed suit, unable to gasp why she had refused but he never questioned her out loud. There had long been some understanding between them, though never spoken just the faintest hints. He looked at her and that smile that still hadn't faded and gave a curt nod. It seemed as if that gesture made her smile even more and he took his leave. As he descended the steps onto the street he paused and glanced back only to see her standing by the window, lace nets drawn aside and her hand pressed against the glass.

She wore no smile now and he dropped her gaze and walked away as she let the nets fall back into place signalling the end of the first act.

**/x/**

The large room buzzed with the voices of the most elite and noble bloodlines who occupied the space. All around her, Walburga could list off the names of families that were tied to her own extensive one. She had memorized her family tree as she used to trace the twisting threads that made branches, links, between all the members. She had repeated the names over and over so that they slipped off her tongue easily. It was her strongest childhood memory, gazing at the wall-hanging and vowing to keep it noble and pure. Here in this room was the man who they all though would have been the threaded link between them on the tapestry. They were not wrong, despite her refusal of him.

"You could have been married by now," her cousin commented and Walburga's eyes flickered towards her with a hint of irritation.

"Really Lucretia," she said lightly whilst taking a small sip of wine. "You are beginning to sound like my mother."

"Well, we have all long since believed that there was an understanding between yourself and my brother," Lucretia replied with a faint frown. "We could have been sisters-in-law."

"There is an understanding still," Walburga said and her eyes looked towards where Orion and her brother Cygnus stood. They were, after all, not difficult to identify since their dark and attractive looks as well as status which was enticing quite a lot of female attention. Whilst her own brother appeared to be enjoying the company surrounding him, Walburga could not help but notice Orion's reluctance to be in the conversation.

His eyes glanced around and his gaze quickly rested on her, finding her in the crowd as easily as she had found him. He looked at her as he always had, with admiration, with longing and with a warmth that was incredibly rare. She turned her head away to find that her cousin had been watching their silent exchange.

"Must you torture him so cruelly? Sometimes I wonder, dearest Walburga, if you have a heart," she reproached.

"I am not doing anything to him."

"Except marry him. Why?"

Walburga did not speak for a moment, contemplating her answer as she stared intently at her glass. She could lie the same way she had lied to her mother, protesting that she was not yet ready to be married despite her age of twenty three years. She  _was_  ready to marry and although he was younger he had that incredible ability of seeming that he had lived for far longer. He was the only man she wished to marry, she would accept no other. This was why her decline had caused such a stir with the family.

Walburga looked at her cousin with an inward sigh. She was tired of being here when she had no desire to converse with anyone but her cousin. She was not the sole attention commanding the room – that was down to the younger, prettier woman who had eager fortune and status grabbing hands surrounding them. She coolly rebuked any advancement and stayed at the fray of the gathering since she had no place at the centre.

"Because he asked me," she said eventually and Lucretia's brows furrowed in confusion.

"That is how it is done."

"No," Walburga shook her head as she walked away. "It is not."

**/x/**

Months had passed in between until they met again as spring was slowly awakening from winter's hold. It was she who went to him without warning, arriving at his home and venturing inside without a pause in her stride. She opened the door of the study where she found him lounging in one of the great armchairs reading. When he saw her he got to his feet quickly, his expression was one of confusion at her sudden appearance.

"You asked me once to be your wife, but I refused," she stated without any pleasantries passing between them. She did not sit but remain standing close to the hearth where she had taken up her position.

"Yes, I remember," he replied tersely moving around the chair in order to stand near her.

Her lips formed the faintest smile for a moment. "Now I ask you."

"To marry you?" he looked bewildered.

"Yes."

He paced a little, throwing her a sharp glance back. "Why? You refused me."

"Yes," she titled her chin. "I did but that does not matter. What matters is your answer."

"First answer me, why did you refuse?" Orion stopped before her and she had to look up a little to meet his eyes.

"Because you asked me," she said simply just as she had told his sister. His eyes narrowed as he deliberated over her answer and then gave a small nod as if he understood.

"You refused because it was not a scene you created."

The small flash of her eyes confirmed this and she straightened her spine. "Yes."

A wily smile formed on his face and he stepped closer to her. "And why should I not just refuse you? Why should I conform to your will?"

"Because you will not marry another," she replied with a cool confidence, eyeing him closely as he leaned in a little.

"Marriage is an equal partnership, not just of your own making."

She gave him a sardonic look. "And how many, pray, have you seen that have been equal? I doubt your parents set such an example."

He shook his head and moved in a bit more so she was forced to take a couple of steps back in order to not touch him. He laughed slightly but continued to evade her space even though he knew she hated that. Her back was pushed against the wall and there was little space between them now.

"If I marry you-"

"If?" she raised any eyebrow mockingly.

"If I marry you," he continued. "Then I must tell you, whilst you are free to make all the scenes that you please, there will be some of my own making."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he breathed, his mouth hovering dangerously close to her own.

"I have no patience for anything that isn't of my own making," she murmured bringing her hand up intending to push him away but it lay still on his chest.

"Believe me, some things you will," he brushed his fingers against her jaw. "Though I like the challenge you propose. So my answer is yes."

Walburga smiled triumphantly at that but the smile stilled as he trailed his fingers down her long, white neck. "What are you doing?"

"Creating a scene that I have thought about for a long time," he said pressing his body against her own. It was the first time that they had been so close as adults, they were more aware of how their bodies fitted together and the heat that burned between.

"Even if I do not want this?" she breathed. He never replied, just captured her mouth in a slow full kiss which he only stopped when he felt the slight movement of her lips against his. He smirked as her eyes flew open and they stared at one another. There is was, the basic foundation of their marriage, the clash and the compromise of wills. She tilted her head back, intrigued over the small flutter of her heart and how she wished to kiss him again.

She touched his face with one finger and then down his neck, echoing his actions and stepped closer to him. She manoeuvred around him and pressed his back against the wall she had previously occupied and set her hands on his shoulders, pressing her palms down.

"I thought you did not want this," he said, holding her at her waist with one hand whilst the other slipped up her back as she brushed her chest against his.

"That is why," she brought her mouth to hover over his. "I am changing the scene."

She could feel him smile as she kissed him and this time her blood thundered in her veins as she explored his mouth and took control. But they closed the act together.

**/x/**

In time she came to understand that whatever control she had, he could still get her to bend to his own will as he had bent to hers. Most of the time he let her be, taking to the shadows whilst his wife performed over and over again. He liked it when she did, she was a splendid actress in her own show for the public. But in the private viewings he often joined her at the centre and when they were alone, he led her and though she pretended to protest, there was one act she could never pull off. She short, sharp cries, the moans, pants and groans as he thrust into her couldn't be forced, nor could the way her back arched, her fingers dug into his skin and she kissed him over and over. However long it had taken to get her there, lying naked and writhing beneath him, it was worth it all and she let him stay in her bed on those occasions.

Her touch was unexpectedly gentle as they lay in silence and he did not move as her hand drifted over his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the dark hair and warm skin beneath. She thought of the tapestry downstairs, the way the threads entangled much like their limbs right now. As her hand went over his chest she pictured the other two threads that came from them. Two sons – one son she corrected. One strand had been blasted off as she had removed him from her life. She could not allow him remain there, boldly defying her and ruining the perfection.

Orion had left her alone whilst she did that, standing outside until he measured out an appropriate time to come intervene. He held his wife, her whole body shook violently as if she was cold but her skin burnt and her eyes were erratic. Only sometime after had he gone to see her handiwork and saw that she had also removed her second brother from the family and he touched the holes where the two of them should have been.

Walburga let her hand drop between them and after a moment he placed his hand on top. She felt unsettled even now. It had been hovering over her from some time, an unnerving sensation of something coming that she couldn't quite place. It pricked at her and despite him strengthening the security around their house she couldn't quite rest.

"Sleep Walburga," he murmured shifting to take her into his arms and for once she let him dictate the scene.

**/x/**

He told her the news and watched the way her face remained controlled, even though he detected the smallest flicker in her eyes. She said nothing but stepped out of the room and locked herself in her own. He knocked for her but when she made no move to let him in he let her be. The family paid their respects and the funeral was a small affair, his wife as brittle and expressionless as ever. Another scene ended with yet another character leaving the play. However much she tried to write it, her play kept being edited by other hands, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she recalled words said in the unwanted scenes she replayed in her head.

That night they sat at dinner opposite each other until it was over and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"We have no children now," she said and got to her feet, her heavy dark skirts swaying as she walked out. He slumped back and drank the rest of his whiskey, too tired to correct her.

**/x/**

She stood in her thin nightdress, her bare feet not feeling the cold as she gazed at the tapestry in front. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark with only the pale moonlight coming in from the windows as a source of light. She had been standing there for hours, her face inches from the faces of her family. Her eyes were trained on one face in particular and she traced the dates with her nail, almost picking at the fabric.

This was not right, this was not how it was supposed to be. She had lost all control over everyone. His death was not a scene she had imagined for some time and not one that she would not be present for. She felt betrayed. Betrayed that he had left her, her constant spectator and as she stood there she realised that the trepidation she had been feeling was gone. The foreshadowing had been his death and her isolation.

Kreacher found her just after dawn and she gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes and a fire in her stare.

"Mistress?"

She savoured that title and then smiled tightly, her lips cracking a little at the action. She laughed, the sound hoarse and broken until tears slid down her cheeks and she started the final act in her play alone.

_fin._


End file.
